<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Paper Hearts by nothingeverlost</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740043">Paper Hearts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost'>nothingeverlost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drug Use, F/M, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet.  That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me.  I’ll be a good little boy.  No booze, nothing up my nose."</p><p>Midge gives Lenny a ride home from the hospital.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)/Miriam "Midge" Maisel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>177</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paper Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From the prompts 'when I saw you, the end was soon'</p><p>Takes place a couple of years after season 3</p><p>References to drug use</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you in front of a room?”  Lenny was in the passenger seat, half slumped against the door.  She had the heater on despite the fact that it was June in California, but he was still shivering.</p><p>“That I was a lightweight in addition to being a complete mess?”  Two hits from a joint and she’d not only completely forgotten to introduce the band, but she’d committed the sin of getting too serious during a set.</p><p>“I thought there she is, finally.  It’s going to be okay when I’m done because she’s there and she’d just getting started.  You stood up there and you were real.”  He held up his hand and gestured at the window as if pointing to a stage that was three thousand miles away and years in the past.  “And I knew that arrest wasn’t an anomaly.  You were going to take on the world and you were going to be a hell of a lot better at it than I was.”</p><p>“Do you have an oven?”  She hated California traffic.  If she was in New York she could have just relied on cabs but they were rare around here and cost too much when everything was miles apart and so she’d rented a car.  In the moment, though, she was glad to have something else to focus on.  </p><p>“Do I have a what?”  For just a moment he sounded like himself, not the shadow that had called her from the hospital.  He’d repeated himself twice before she’d realized it was him.</p><p>“An oven.  You’re renting a place, right?  My hotel doesn’t have an oven.”</p><p>“I think they’re pretty standard in a kitchen and I have one of those.  Midge…”</p><p>“I’m making a brisket.  We’ll stop at the store when I see one and pick up a few things.  You can stay in the car if you want but a little walking would be good for you and I don’t know what you like and what you hate.  For eating.  I don’t see you eat very much, you know?  We’ve shared what, half a dozen meals together and half of those were pretzels and nuts.”  ‘When I’m done’ he said, and she was talking like if she said enough she could stop hearing the echo of it in her head.  He could have been done last night, according to the nurse.  </p><p>“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet.  That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me.  I’ll be a good little boy.  No booze, nothing up my nose.  Just me and my bed for the rest of the day.”  He struggled to sit up in the seat.</p><p>“You’re too thin and you need some red meat.”  Midge pulled into the parking lot of the first grocery store she saw.  “Oh fuck, you just made me sound like a Jewish yenta.”</p><p>“The last thing I think of when I see you is yenta.”</p><p>“Sure.”  No, he thought of her as caring on a tradition or some shit that let him off the hook.  “Are you coming in?”</p><p>“Why not.”  She often thought of Lenny as dancing, even before the first time they’d been on the dance floor together.  He seemed to glide as he moved, to sway, nothing so banal as just walking.  As they walked through the parking lot his steps were almost mechanical, as if he was trying to remember how humans moved.  She nodded to the carts; maybe having something to hold onto would help him.</p><p>She’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day.  The moment they walked through the doors they were assaulted by red and pink hearts, sales on steak, and plastic cupids ‘flying’ precariously over the produce department.  Great.  She was twice divorced (from the same man) very single, and stupidly in love with a man who apparently thought of her as his replacement.</p><p>“The brisket will take hours so I’m getting some chicken soup.  I hope their deli has a decent one.  We need carrots and potatoes.  You should have some fruit too; I hear oranges are good out here.”  She pushed the cart through the produce department first, adding apples as well.  Some lettuce too, for a salad with dinner.</p><p>“Midge.”</p><p>“If I know you there’s probably not much in your fridge.  We should get some milk and some cheese.  And we’ll get some crackers, those are good when your stomach is upset.  How do you feel about Jell-o?”  She led him to the meat department so she could get the brisket.  </p><p>“Midge.”</p><p>“I prefer a butcher for my meat, they know their cuts better, but sometimes you just have to settle.”  At least the man behind the counter seemed to know what he was doing.  </p><p>“Miriam.”  She couldn’t ignore him with a hand on her arm.  Couldn’t move forward.</p><p>“This is where you want to do this, Lenny?  Here, surrounded by yogurt and paper hearts and discount packages of frozen vegetables?  What do you want me to say, though I’m okay with you trying to kill yourself because hey, I’ll be around to pick up the pieces and my life will suck the moment I get that phone call but at least I will have something to talk about when I’m on stage?”  It was so goddamn cold.  Someone needed to change the settings on the refrigerators before the milk started freezing.  Midge reached for the cart but stopped herself.  “Make your own damn brisket if that’s how you feel because fuck you.  I lived my life for a man once and I am never doing that again.  This is my life.  I’m not here to replace you or continue your act or whatever the hell it is that you want.”</p><p>It wasn’t hard to pull away from him, breaking his hold.  His hand was trembling.  “I’m not trying to kill myself.”</p><p>“You’re not trying to not kill yourself either.”  He’d lost too much weight, his clothes hanging off him.  The shadows under his eyes spoke of a lot more than a missed night of sleep.  Heroin, the nurse had said.  From her own experience there was alcohol too, and marijuana.  And missed meals.</p><p>“I just need a break from all this.”  His hand fluttered near his forehead.  “It makes the world stop for a little while.”</p><p>“Ma’am, someone reported a disturbance back here.  Is this man bothering you?”  A man in a very bad sweater vest and a name tag that said “Manager Chip” approached them.  Midge almost laughed.  Disturbance?  He didn’t know the half of it.</p><p>“We’re fine,” she lied.  “My husband is just out of the hospital after a bomb exploded in his office and he’s a little hard of hearing still.”</p><p>“Yes ma’am.  Sorry to bother you.”</p><p>“A bomb?”  Lenny cocked his head to the side.</p><p>“Would you have preferred syphilis?” She sighed.  “We should go.  Leave the cart, someone will sort it out.”</p><p>“I’ve heard stories of this brisket of yours.  Legends.  I’d like to see if it lives up to the rumors.”</p><p>“Lenny.”  He was smiling for the first time since she’d seen him six months ago in Chicago.  That damn grin of his, the one she never saw on stage but only when they were alone, was a curse.  It could get her to do almost anything.</p><p>“You’re no one’s second act, Midge.  I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”</p><p>“You’re not replaceable.  Not on stage and not off it either.”  She’d been using Lenny Bruce as a measuring stick since she’d seen him in college.  It wasn’t fair to him, and really wasn’t fair to other men, but somehow he’d become a part of the center of her universe.  She either needed to pull away completely or she needed to stop hiding from it.  “I don’t want to lose you.”</p><p>“You’re too good for me, Midge.”</p><p>“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.  You can decide to be my friend or you can tell me to fuck off.  You can be my lover or you can tell me you’re not interested.  Decide for yourself but you don’t get to decide for me.”</p><p>“I can’t promise you a future, I don’t know how much I have in me.”  It scared her to know that he only spoke the brutal truth.</p><p>“I’m not asking for promises.  I’m asking for you to sit at a table and eat soup while I make dinner.  I’m asking you to sleep in a bed and tomorrow we’ll see if this town has anything that passes as a deli.  And maybe, if you want, you can talk to me a little.  We’re pretty good at not talking to each other, maybe it’s time we try something different.”</p><p>“How novel.”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  The soup might need to wait until he’d had a nap first.</p><p>“I’m not just getting started anymore, Lenny.  I’ve been around the block.  I know enough to know what I want and what I can handle.”  She grabbed the cart.  They needed to get out of the grocery store.  Melting down on stage was enough without adding grocery stores to the list.</p><p>“You can tell I feel like crap because I don’t have a single joke ready for what I’d like you to handle.”</p><p>“I’ll give you a twenty-four hour grace period.  You can give me your best joke tomorrow.”  Thank God she didn’t have a show tonight.  </p><p>“Tomorrow.  Yeah, okay, I can do that.”  He walked next to her, hands in his pockets.  “Don’t forget the Jell-O.  I like the green one.  But if there are any vegetables in there I won’t eat it.”</p><p>“How do you feel about pineapple?”  </p><p>“I wouldn’t object.”  They stopped in the baking aisle for Jell-O and a cake mix.  One of the paper hearts had fallen; she didn’t see it until she’d rolled over it with the cart.  It felt like the setup for a joke in her act.  She hoped it wasn’t a sign.</p><p>“Let’s go home.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>